I Don't Really Know How to Tell You This
by tatterdemalion
Summary: AU. When you have two dads and one jerk of a brother who all live in a rundown English pub, "meet the family" nights are not just awkward - they're horrifying. A PruCan high school story. Yes, another one! Yes I'm very serious.
1. Part 1

**Title:** I Don't Really Know How To Tell You This  
><strong>Author:<strong> tatterdemalion  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Canada, Prussia, England, France, and America - guest appearances/mentions of Germany, North Italy, Spain, Netherlands, Ukraine / PruCan and minor FrUK  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Summary: <strong>AU / When you have two dads and one jerk of a brother who all live in a rundown English pub, "meet the family" nights are not just awkward - they're horrifying. Story based on a prompt from the livejournal community "52 flavors"

**Prompt:**"I'm not sure my parents will approve! And they run a bar!"

**Notes: **So this is a story/AU that I only uploaded onto my LJ, originally. However, as I am looking to finish up my stories before taking a break (per se, or at least a decrease in activity) from this fandom (although I do realize I have been gone for a long time now...), I thought I'd migrate it over here for people to read. If you want to read ahead, this story (and more from this universe) can be found on my LJ, grosse_averse - however, I'd also really appreciate reviews here, as well! Please enjoy!

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><p><em>Le Lys &amp; La Rose<em> sits on the eastern end of a small English fishing village. It is a rather tacky looking, rundown English pub, bought by a prickly Englishman when he and his family moved there from London. Before he even bought the pub he had earned an odd reputation around town - _after all,_ people whispered, _why would you want to move from **London** to **this** place?_

The Englishman's partner, a very fruity Frenchman, had bickered with his lover for several months over _why_, exactly, he felt the need to buy such an eyesore, and then for several more months over what they were going to do with the place. The Frenchman wanted to update it, make it a little more _chic_like those cafes in Paris - The Englishman wanted a good ol' rough and tumble pub like the ones from his childhood (greasy chips, badly lit bar, the works).

The Frenchman despaired. Eventually, he had compromised on the basis that _he_could choose the name.

The couple had two children who enrolled in the local high school the fall after they arrived. The eldest brother was a cheery, goofy sort of boy, good at football but not so good at sitting still in class. The younger brother was a meek little thing, better at schoolwork but continually overshadowed by his brother. The elder sat with a big group of friends at lunch - the younger sat by his locker to eat. The elder practiced football after school - the younger didn't like to talk about what he did after hours.

"I think he has, like, an anime club or something he goes to." the elder, Alfred, would tell his parents when asked.

The younger, Matt, would agree with this regardless if it was true or not. If it got his fathers off his back, so be it.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of school, Matt got up out of his desk and left the Maths classroom. The girl who sat next to him, Katya, gave him a cheery wave and told him to have a good weekend - his friend Lars clapped a hand on his shoulder before running off in search of his sister.

Matt sighed wearily as he replaced his books in his locker. It was Friday, and he had a weekend of doing homework to look forward to. He wondered if Lars would be up for going to a movie on Saturday - there was a new one out, a comedy, and it -

Someone slammed his locker door shut. Matt looked up, an annoyed look crossing his face, until he realized who the person standing beside him was.

Red eyes studied him as a fierce smile curled the boy's lips up.

"Hey," the boy named Gilbert drawled, leaning against the locker; he towered over Matt by a couple of inches (_only a couple!_), something the other boy always found annoying. "How was Maaaaaaths?" he drew the name out in an irritated drawl, a faint German accent audible in his voice.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Fine." he said and tried to move Gilbert's arm in order to open his locker back up. Gilbert didn't give. Instead, he leaned over Matt with a smirk.

"Do you have something you want?" Matt asked stiffly, trying to look intimidating. Gilbert pretended to considered this, then bent so they were face to face.

"Ten minutes." he said quietly. "While Ludwig's at football practice."

Matt made a sour face. "Okay," was his reluctant answer. "But I can't stay very long."

"Sure." Gilbert cackled, throwing him a wink and then disappearing down the hallway. Matt let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and opened his locker once more.

He'd first met Gilbert Beilschmidt during the first week of school, back when he was still following his brother around for lack of better things to do. He'd had lunch with a few friends Al had made on the football team, including a big, blond forward named Ludwig Beilschmidt, and his older brother Gilbert.

Gilbert was loud, cocky, and rude, and had spent the whole lunch break leering at Matt before teasing him about his hair, his glasses...whatever. Alfred had piped up once in a while, telling Gilbert to, "_shut his mouth_" but Matt had felt sufficiently ridiculed and hadn't eaten lunch with his brother again.

But the day after Gilbert had found him in the hall, eating lunch, and had sat with him the whole hour. Matt had been annoyed, until Gilbert had suggested Matt come to an after school meeting for this club he was in. Matt had accepted, and...

Well...Matt flushed at the memory as he turned down the hallway into the far wing of the school. Hardly anybody stayed in this section after school - even the janitors didn't clean here until late at night. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to one of the empty classrooms and stepped inside, locking the door behind him.

Instantly he was pressed up against the door, and Gilbert's lips were crushed against his. Matt gave a little exclamation of exasperation but kissed back. The blinds had been drawn across the windows, blocking Matt's view of the football pitch, and blocking the football players' view of _them_.

Gilbert had his hands on either side of Matt's head, nipping and licking at Matt's lower lip in a very distracting manner. Matt twined his arms around the red eyed boy's neck and together they tried to move into the centre of the room.

It was hard when Gilbert insisted on groping him throughout.

"Gilbert." Matt groaned into the elder's mouth as Gilbert's hand slid lower and lower, fingertips dipping below the waistband of his trousers. "G-Gil - "

Gilbert laughed into his mouth, before backing him up against a desk. Matt broke the kiss in order to hop up on the desk. Gilbert settled himself between the blond's spread legs.

"Hm?" he asked teasingly. "So how _was_ your day, _liebling_?"

Matt frowned at him. "I - it was fine, I already told you." he stammered as Gilbert's hands trailed up and down his thighs. After a nervous pause he added, "...a-and you didn't have to slam my locker shut, either."

"Sorry." Gilbert didn't sound sorry as he leaned forward to possessively nibble on Matt's ear. "_You're_the one who insisted we act "normal" so no one would know..."

"So normal for you is acting like a dick...?" Matt grumbled, tilting his head to give Gilbert more access to his neck.

"You asked for it." Gilbert replied pleasantly. Matt frowned.

It was true, he was the one who, after Gilbert had started getting too touchy-feely in the hallways, had suggested that they keep their..._relationship_...under wraps. After all, he wasn't sure how his brother would react to something like that, and in such a small town the news would _certainly_get around to his parents.

And no one, _no one_wants that.

Gilbert was grinding against him now, making Matt inhale sharply and steady himself by grabbing the albino's shoulders. Gilbert smirked into his neck and suckled the skin there. The suction built - _the jerk was trying to give him a hickey!_- and Matt tried to push himself away.

"Wait - no - people will see..."

"I _want_people to see." Gilbert growled, eyes flashing dangerously as their gazes locked. "I want people to see you're mine."

"Nn...no..." Matt was flustered by this statement, squirming on the desk. "I told you, I - "

"Are you embarrassed?" Gilbert asked, stilling his motions. Matt felt a little disappointed and antsy - usually their routine consisted of rutting against each other like horny teenagers in an abandoned classroom, then parting ways. He had never taken Gilbert for one to want anything more in the arrangement. The older boy's eyes were serious now.

"Are you embarrassed of me?"

"What?" Matt looked surprised. Gilbert's hands were gripping his hips with a sense of urgency, and Matt lifted his sneaker and ran it reassuringly up and down the albino's calf. "Gil, no, it's not that!"

"Then why do we keep..." Gilbert trailed off and motioned angrily around the classroom. When Matt didn't answer, struck speechless by the fact that _Gilbert_, of all people, would be worried about this, an angry, embarrassed flush appeared on the albino's face and he snapped hurriedly, "I - it's not like I'm _upset_or anything gay like that! Forget it!", and he set back to attacking Matt's lips with desperate, angry kisses.

Matt felt guilty, and he slid a hand between his mouth and Gilbert's to stop him. "Gil, wait." he said quietly. "It's not that I'm embarrassed, okay? It's just that I'm not sure I want my parents to know about all this."

Gilbert looked puzzled. "Why not?" he asked.

Matt swallowed nervously. "They're kind of - well, they're weird. Like, really weird. Like, sometimes I don't go down for dinner because they're so weird." _And also because Dad's cooking is shit_

Gilbert didn't seem convinced. "So? My family's fucking weird, too! Sometimes my brother brings his friend home and his friend dances around and sings about pasta so our father gets mad and kicks him out. And I mean, Jesus Christ, my father's hair goes down to his _back_, he looks like mother fucking Legolas, it's so _embarrassing_to go down to the store with him - !"

"Gil, I'm not sure my parents will approve! And they run a _bar_!" Matt didn't want to mention to Gilbert how the albino's reputation preceded him in this town ("problem child" people called him behind his back, "delinquent", "rogue", "how his little brother ended up being such a good citizen is a miracle"). His dad had commented on Gilbert once, saying that the "brat should be sent off to military camp if he was going to cause so much trouble!"

"Matt." Gilbert kissed him firmly, teasing his tongue between the blond's lips before pulling back. "Trust me, I can make a good impression." at Matt's dubious stare, he insisted, "Seriously!"

Matt thought of all the times Gilbert had lost his temper in class, or when he and his friend Antonio had pulled pranks on new students, or when Gilbert had (reputedly) told the headmaster that he thought he was a "pretty big wanker". Gilbert had a problem with authority figures and rules, and he wasn't afraid to show it.

Matt sighed. "Fine." he said. "You - would you like to come over for dinner tonight? My _papa_is making something really delicious..."

Gilbert's eyes lit up. "Absolutely!" he crowed. "Tonight is Frozen Dinner Friday at my house, anyways! Sweet, and your dad's French too, right? So it _must_be good!"

Matt laughed at Gilbert's enthusiasm, then paused. "Were...were you really that angry with me because I didn't want other people to know?"

Gilbert thought about this. His thumbs pressed circles above Matt's pelvis and the younger boy blushed.

"Yeah." he said teasingly, leaning closer. "You gonna make it up to me?"

Matt was about to reply when a football came sailing through the window, showering the floor with bits of glass. Gilbert swore, loudly, throwing arms around Matt to protect him. The blond blushed.

"Who the _fuck_did that?" Gilbert demanded, striding over to the window and shoving the tangled blinds aside. Matt joined him

Alfred was looking up at them with a bright grin on his face. "Antonio dared me to drop kick the ball!" he called up by way of an explanation.

"Al!" Matt cried in exasperation. Alfred looked between the two of them.

"So...what's going on, Mattie?" he asked suspiciously.

"Uh..." Matt trailed off as Ludwig jogged up behind Alfred, his hair immaculately slicked back as always. "Gil's going to be coming over for dinner, Al."

Alfred looked stunned for a minute. Then he started laughing. "Oh Matt. _Oh Matt_." he said, smirking. "Good luck with that."

"I know!" Matt exclaimed. "It's going to be horrible, shut up!"

Ludwig was giving Gilbert an affronted look. Gilbert poked his tongue out. "Poor Luddy has to survive Frozen Dinner Fridays all by himself!" he teased.

"You can come over to _my_place for dinner!" the Italian goalie, Feliciano, called from across the pitch.

Ludwig groaned.

Matt had second thoughts.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! I'll put the next part up ASAP!


	2. Part 2

**Title:** I Don't Really Know How To Tell You This  
><strong>Author:<strong> tatterdemalion  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Canada, Prussia, England, France, and America / PruCan and minor FrUK  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Summary: <strong>AU / When you have two dads and one jerk of a brother who all live in a rundown English pub, "meet the family" nights are not just awkward - they're horrifying. Story based on a prompt from the LJ community "52 flavors"

**Prompt:** "I'm not sure my parents will approve! And they run a bar!"

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><p>Gilbert agreed to go home first before coming over, and Matt was forced to listen to his brother gloat as they took the bus out to <em>Le Lys &amp; La Rose<em>.

"My God, Dad's going to forget all about that time I flunked my Science test!" Alfred was crowing. "I owe you man, seriously."

"Just shut up." Matt muttered sourly into his backpack, which he had clutched to his chest like some sort of comfort blanket. "Just shut up Al, I _knew_ this was a bad idea, I _told _Gil..."

Alfred examined his brother for a moment. "So how did this all happen anyways?" he asked. "I thought you didn't like him. You guys never seemed to get along."

"Oh." Right. Alfred didn't know. "I'll tell you at dinner, okay?"

_Now _Alfred looked downright suspicious. "Matt..." he said warningly. Matt pulled the chain for the stop.

"Whoa, here we are, look at that!" he chirped with too much cheerfulness, and was out of his bus seat before Alfred could grab him, long legs easily taking him off the bus and down the pavement towards the pub.

"Mattie, if he's been doing something inappropriate I'm totally going to trip his brother next time we play!" Alfred was yelling at him. "Goddamn jackass, I _knew _there was a reason I didn't like him!"

"Just shut up Alfred!" Matt yelled for the umpteenth time that day, yanking open the door to the pub and slamming it behind him.

His father, Arthur, straightened up from behind the bar, a glass in his hand.

"Matthew?" he asked. "You're home late. Is something wrong?"

Matt collected himself, leaning against the door in case Alfred tried to get in. "No, Dad. I was just wondering if I could have a friend over for dinner tonight."

Arthur Kirkland, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, leaned on the bar counter, furrowing his rather massive eyebrows. Matt waited for his response, digging his heels into the floor as Alfred tried to open the door from the outside. "I don't see why not." he said finally - Matt deflated in relief.. "You'll have to ask your papa, though, he's the one making dinner." then the Brit frowned. "It's not that pothead you hang out with, is it?"

Matt rolled his eyes tiredly. "No, Dad, it's not Lars." he had no idea _how_ his dad could of smelled the faint trace of marijuana on Lars's coat, but he had, and the dinner had ended on a rather sour note. Now Matt only went over to Lars's house instead of vice versa - in the Dutch boy's words, "_I like you Mattie but your family is crazy. Especially your Dad._"

"Oh. Well then." Arthur coughed. "Clear it with your papa, at least."

"Thanks." Matt smiled and stepped away from the door so Alfred could come tumbling in. His brother glared at him.

"Jerk."

"Loud mouth." Matt shot back.

"Boys." Arthur warned. Alfred stuck his tongue out at Matt and sauntered past him into the back room.

The Kirkland-Bonnefoys lived above the pub, in a three bedroom flat (well, it used to be two bedroom, but Alfred had complained so much about sharing a room with Matt - and vice versa, Matt's brother could be a _pig _when he wanted to be - that their fathers had changed the storage room into another bedroom). The two brothers worked at the pub - mostly cleaning and serving food - on the week end and some school nights. The only good thing about it was that it took very little time to get from home to work.

Matt's papa, Francis Bonnefoy, was in the kitchen, frying something up in a saucepan, wearing an apron with something written on it in French that Arthur refused to let Francis translate for their sons. Alfred had suggested looking it up in a dictionary but part of Matt didn't want to know.

"Hello _papa_!" Matt chirped, and Francis paused in his cooking to kiss his son fondly on the forehead.

"_Salut, mon fils!_" he replied. "How was school?"

"Good." Matt said absently, then added, "Hey _papa_, can I have a friend over for dinner tonight?"

Francis frowned, tapping his fingers against his hip. "Mmm, Mathieu, I wish you had told me sooner." he complained. "It's very hard to cook for more so late in the afternoon..."

Matt's face fell. "Uhm, okay." he said dejectedly. "I was really excited too, my friend heard about your cooking and how good it was and wanted to try it..."

"Did they?" Chancing a glance up, Matt saw his papa give a flattered smile. "Well, then, I should not disappoint them, _oui_? If I change the recipe now dinner will only be a little bit late."

"Thank you, _papa_!" Matt exclaimed with an inward fist pump. Complimenting his father was the quickest way to get what he wanted. Francis chuckled at his exuberance.

"_De rien_, Mathieu. Now, don't you have chores to do before dinner?"

Matt frowned. "Don't remind me." he groaned. Francis stroked a quick hand through his hair.

"Hop to it." his father said, and reluctantly Matt left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to their flat. Alfred was already in his room, blaring very loud music, and when Matt pounded on his door to tell him to get to his chores (misery loves company!) he was ignored.

Or Alfred had gone deaf. Either was possible.

Matt stopped by his storage closet bedroom to drop off his backpack. Half of his walls were painted a deep, rich red, and the other half a neutral beige-white (a fight between him and his brother over paint colours - Alfred's walls were a mish-mash of red white and blue. Their fathers had wisely decided not to get between them on the subject).

Matt's white rat, Kuma, was curled up in his cage amidst a nest of shredded papers and wood chips. He was exceptionally big for a rat (something Arthur couldn't stand - "It was either that or he would've wanted a _dog_" Francis had argued gently on Matt's behalf), and his fur was very fluffy.

Matt tapped the glass gently. The rat didn't stir - no surprise, Kuma often acted like Matt didn't exist. Sighing, Matt threw his backpack on his bed and sat down beside it. The quilt on his bed had been made by Arthur, when Matt was just a baby, and whenever he looked at it, it made him smile.

His fathers had faced a lot of prejudice back in their London neighbourhood, for being homosexuals, but they had never let it bother them. They had each other, and two wonderful boys, and they didn't care what anyone else said. When they moved here, Matt was afraid they'd find even _more _ridicule - small fishing villages are not exactly famous for their "open minds". But the family was greatly relieved to find that the townspeople simply didn't care either way if the owners of the pub fancied blokes - this town was bizarre enough that a gay family failed to freak people out.

Getting up, Matt pulled his apron from his bedside table and set off downstairs to clean the pub.

Arthur was serving a couple of fishermen when Matt, armed with a broom, started sweeping the floor. Alfred came down after a little while with a washcloth to clean the vacant tables.

_Le Lys & La Rose _was usually quiet in the mid-afternoon, which was when the family closed the pub down for an hour or so in order have dinner ("Eating dinner together regularly makes for a close-knit and happy family!" Arthur had insisted when Francis had asked why they couldn't simply take turns eating dinner so they wouldn't have to close - Arthur read a lot of parenting books in his spare time, especially now that his babies were getting older). It got busy in the late afternoon and continued on through the night. The patrons of the pub greeted Matt easily and with familiarity - in turn, Matt could remember all of their names, and most of the gossip he'd heard about them. This was one of the giant differences he had felt that made living here a little better than in London. You were hardly ever a stranger.

Around four the bell above the door rang, and Matt turned out of habit to greet the new customer.

"Hey, Matthew!" Gilbert was standing there, motorcycle helmet in his hands, jeans dusty from the trip out of town to the pub.

All the colour drained from Matt's face. Alfred looked over and slapped the washcloth down on a table with a frown. Arthur gave his youngest son a quizzical look - he did not look pleased that the town's delinquent was in his pub, but business was business.

Without waiting, Gilbert strode over to a table and sat down, placing his helmet on the top. Matt cringed. Of all the first impressions Gilbert could give, he chose _this_? He had expected Gilbert to dress up a _little _bit for dinner. And maybe not ride his motorcycle to the pub - but that was farfetched because that was all the transportation Gilbert had, the bike bought with his own money from working at the docks during the summer.

"Dinner's not for a while." Matt said quietly, leaning on the table to talk to the albino. Gilbert crossed his feet at the ankles and stretched them out.

"I know." he said simply. "I wanted to come see you. I haven't been in here since your old man kicked me out for trying to order a beer."

Oh, this was just wonderful. "You what?" Matt hissed, chancing a glance at Arthur, who was looking more and more perturbed at the sight of the two of them talking. "Gil, my dad is really strict, and he already doesn't think kindly of you - "

"Oh, I know!" Gilbert piped up, grinning toothily at him. His hand boldly covered Matt's own on the table and Matt blushed, tilting his body so the action was hidden from Arthur's sights.

"Then why did you want to come to dinner, then?" Matt asked between gritted teeth - Alfred was making gestures at him from the other end of the pub, face twisted in mirth and gleeful apprehension of the fireworks that were sure to go off at dinner time. Gilbert was staring up at him, looking thoroughly amused by the whole situation.

"'Cause I want to be your boyfriend. And that's what boyfriends do, right? Or something. I dunno. Ludwig had this book he was reading and I looked in it and apparently that's what you do."

Matt made a few spluttering sounds, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Y-you _moron_- " he began hopelessly, but all of a sudden Arthur was striding over, eyebrows furrowed.

"Sorry." he told Gilbert icily. "We're closing for dinner now, so you'll need to leave."

Matt winced. "A-actually, Dad," he began, as Gilbert grinned cockily up at the older man, "Gilbert...is the friend who's staying for dinner."

There was a pause. Matt could practically see the murder behind his father's green eyes as Arthur finally ground out, "Oh, well that's just brilliant. Oh by all means (you smarmy little git), come into the kitchen for dinner. Matthew, help set the table (so help me God we are having a _talk_, boy)."

His father was muttering. That was not a good sign. Matt sent one more pleading glance at Gilbert (a glance that effectively said, _get out while you can!_), but Gilbert merely raised his eyebrows, stood up, dusted off his trousers, and picked up his helmet.

"Thanks a lot, Mr. Kirkland!" he grinned languidly. "I'm starved!"

Arthur scowled.

* * *

><p>Dinner was painfully quiet - Matt had tried to fill the silence with idle chatter, but between Arthur's existing prejudice against Gilbert, Alfred's growing suspicion about <em>what<em>, exactly, his baby brother was doing after school, and Francis's uncanny ability to spot an awkwardly budding teenage romance a mile away, the only sound was the clinking of cutlery against plates.

Gilbert had stopped shoveling his food into his mouth long enough to tell Francis that his food was _fucking amazing_, which hadn't helped lighten the mood.

Finally Matt put his fork down and cleared his throat. "Uh, so, Gilbert and I have something to tell you." he began awkwardly, and paused to gather his words so he could make this as easy for himself as possible.

"We're dating." was Gilbert's blunt addition, mouth full of rice.

Well, there goes that idea.

Arthur spluttered. Francis curled his lip. Alfred looked torn between indignation and laughter.

"For how long?" Arthur demanded. "You didn't think to tell us?"

"Well, I'm telling you _now_!" Matt protested. "And it's sort of been a gradual thing...not really _dating_, we haven't really gone on a date yet - "

"You came over to my house once." Gilbert spoke up, reminding him. His red eyes slid around the table, taking in everyone's reaction with a sort of gleeful appreciation of the mayhem he had just caused. Matt shot him a sour glance. "Remember, Matt? We had the house to ourselves...my dad was out...so I showed you my room..."

"Enough!" Arthur snapped, rising to his feet as Matt blushed in remembrance of that afternoon. "Matthew, I must say I am severely alarmed by this whole situation! This boy is trouble, and you _know _it."

"Thanks." Gilbert sneered.

"Dad, he's not really that bad..." Matt tried, but Francis shook his head gently.

"I knew a boy like you when _I _was in school," he told Gilbert in an unusually firm tone. "If you are going to be dating my son, I expect you to prove my initial expectations wrong."

Gilbert looked impressed. "I'll try my hardest." he said airily. Arthur sputtered, turning to his lover.

"Francis, I can't believe - " he seemed lost for words. " - for God's sake, don't you remember? He spray painted _breasts _on the town statue! He set off firecrackers in the gymnasium on Guy Fawkes Day and the school had to be shut down because the sprinklers went off!"

"That was _you_?" Alfred asked Gilbert excitedly, who winked. With a scowl, Arthur pinched his eldest son's ear. "Ow, Dad!" Alfred whined. "I was just asking!"

"I will not have my son associated with a hooligan." Arthur declared stiffly.

"_This_ is why I didn't want to tell you!" Matt exclaimed suddenly, catching his family off guard. "Because you _always_overreact, Dad!"

Arthur huffed. "I do _not _always overreact!" he protested.

"_Yes you do._" Matt countered. "You always let Al do whatever he wants but when I want to have a boyfriend you decide that it's the worst thing in the world!"

"It's not your having a _boyfriend _that's the issue here." Francis said soothingly, reaching out a hand to his youngest son. "It's the fact that Gilbert's reputation is less than stellar. Your father is worried about you."

"You're _never _worried about me!" Matt told Arthur vehemently. "Neither of you are, Al was always your favourite, and you don't care about me unless it's to stop me from doing something I want!"

"Now hold on, young man - " Arthur began sternly but Matt, face set in an angry expression, stood up and stormed out of the kitchen. They heard his footsteps pounding on the stairs, and his bedroom door slamming shut above them.

Arthur looked stricken. Francis rose to his feet.

"I will go talk to him." he said quietly. "Sit with the boys." he leaned down to kiss Arthur on the temple, adding, "_And behave_."

Arthur grumbled but obligingly remained at the table as Francis rounded the corner towards the stairwell.

Gilbert looked highly amused. "This is way better than Frozen Dinner Fridays." he told Alfred confidently.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>Thanks for reading!


	3. Part 3

**Title:** I Don't Really Know How To Tell You This  
><strong>Author:<strong> tatterdemalion  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Canada, Prussia, England, France, and America / PruCan and minor FrUK  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Summary: <strong>AU / When you have two dads and one jerk of a brother who all live in a rundown English pub, "meet the family" nights are not just awkward - they're horrifying. Based on a prompt from the LJ community "52 flavors"

**Prompt:**"I'm not sure my parents will approve! And they run a bar!"

**Note:** Last part! Thanks for the feedback :)

* * *

><p>Once the anger had dissipated, Matt sat shoved up against the corner of his bed and felt extremely stupid. He shouldn't have said those things, and he shouldn't have left Gilbert down there to deal with his family.<p>

There was a knock on his door.

"_Cher_," Francis called. "Will you let me come in?"

"Yes." Matt said sulkily, and his papa entered the room, a bemused smile on his face.

"Mathieu, don't be too hard on your father." Francis began, taking a seat on his son's bed. "You know how he gets."

At this, Matt rolled his eyes. Francis chuckled. "Ah, _mon fils_, you _know _he cares for you. He is keeping me up every night with worries. He doesn't know what he will do once you and Alfred graduate. And if I know Arthur, he is very hurt that you think he does not care."

"I didn't...I didn't _mean_ it." Matt grumbled into his knees. "I was mad." he lifted his face and added, "But it _does _always seem like you like Al more." Francis considered this, shifting to cross his legs.

"You and Alfred are completely different, so your father and I treat you differently. Your grades are good, so we never feel the need to talk to your teachers about you. _Alfred's_ teachers sometimes feel the need to talk to _us_." Francis chuckled. "You see? It may seem like we don't pay you much attention, but it is because we do not coddle you. You are in secondary school and you are almost an adult so we give you that freedom. I am sure, if you wanted to act like a child to gain our attention, you will find you will quickly get it - however, it will not be the _good _sort of attention. Understand?"

Matt felt horrible. "I'm sorry." he muttered miserably. "I didn't mean it."

"I know." Francis sighed, and reached out to wrap his arm around Matt's shoulders.

"I do believe." he said after a while, running a hand through his son's silky hair. "That your dinner date is waiting for you downstairs."

Matt groaned. "He probably thinks I'm such a wimp."

Francis laughed. "He is probably too preoccupied with your father and brother, so shall we - ?"

Matt got to his feet. "Oh God!" he exclaimed. "Poor Gilbert!"

When Matt and Francis got downstairs, the three men were deep in discussion. They broke off and Alfred turned to stare at Matt, eyes wide.

"You're _not _in an anime club?" he demanded. Matt turned tiredly to Gilbert.

The albino shrugged. "That's all I said." he seemed to hesitate, then as Matt passed his chair he reached out to touch the blonde's hand. Matt smiled, and when he sat down he twined their fingers together. Gilbert's grin widened in triumph.

"Uhm. I was afraid to tell you guys about Gilbert and I." Matt explained. "Because of...well, because I was a lot of stuff. I was nervous. I wasn't sure if you'd approve. So I told Al I joined a club after school and then I'd go and meet Gilbert."

At Alfred's horror struck expression, and Gilbert's laughter, Matt hastened to add, "A - and we didn't _do _anything!"

Francis looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. "_Papa_!" Matt glowered half-heartedly at him. "I'm _serious_, we _didn't_."

"_Pardonne-moi_, of _course _I believe you." Francis teased.

Arthur was sitting throughout all this with an odd, almost nostalgic look on his face. "Well," he spoke up, "if you have nothing to do after school I don't want you hanging around the building after hours."

Matt deflated at his father's words, but nodded. Gilbert gave his hand a brief squeeze.

"If you are going to visit with Gilbert, then you might as well bring him here, and hang out at home." Arthur finished with a grumble. He turned red when Matt's whole face lit up and he began beaming stupidly.

Eventually Arthur scowled fondly at his son. "Don't give me that look," he growled. "I'm not a _slavedriver_. Now be a dear and help your papa with dessert."

"There's dessert?" Gilbert looked excited. "Awesome!"

* * *

><p>The tension lessened. Matt felt like he could breathe again. He was extremely embarrassed when Arthur gave him a lecture at the table about <em>Saying What You Mean And Not Lying To Your Parents About Your Whereabouts<em>, but he figured he deserved it. Gilbert laughed at his pained expression and took seconds of the mousse Francis made.

Matt walked Gilbert out the door after dinner, to say goodbye. They stood outside the front door, Gilbert's bike visible, propped up against the side of the pub. The older boy turned to Matt with a cheeky look in his eyes.

"I'm really - " Matt started, but Gilbert talked over him:

"I think you over-exaggerated everything. Your old man's pretty cool, in the end."

Matt flushed. "I wasn't _trying _to over-exaggerate." he admitted. "It just sort of happens, when my family's around."

He was temporarily surprised when Gilbert stepped closer and settled his hands on Matt's hips.

"I had an awesome time." Gilbert assured him. "And does this mean you'll be my boyfriend, now?"

Matt fumed. "Why are you asking me this if you already told my family we were dating?" he asked.

Gilbert paused to consider this. "Good point." he grinned and prodded Matt's chest with his index finger. "You're my boyfriend, then."

"Thanks so much." Matt said dryly.

Gilbert cackled before running a thumb over Matt's collarbone. "You know I'm jokin', kiddo." he declared. "You're too cute so I like to tease you."

Matt heaved a sigh before getting on his tip toes to kiss Gilbert.

"Thanks for convincing me to do this." he said. "I'm sorry if you thought I was embarrassed of you because I wasn't, it's just - "

Gilbert kissed him again, sliding an arm around the younger boy's waist to pull him close. "I get it." he said bluntly. "Whatever. At least now I can give you a hickey?" his eyes were hopeful. Matt laughed.

"Well, I guess you can, can't you?"

Gilbert's smirk sent a shiver down Matt's spine. "Awesome." he declared, using his free hand to tilt Matt's head up so he could nuzzle his face into the younger boy's neck.

Matt let out something that could've been a very undignified squeak and pushed half-heartedly at Gilbert's shoulders as he felt the albino's tongue flick out to brush along his skin.

"Gil, we're outside my house!" he protested. Gilbert sighed, breath hot against his neck.

"C'mooo_ooo_n!" he whined. "I've been waiting _forever_!"

"Not right now!" Matt wriggled from the older boy's grasp, flushed and hot. "Jeezus, Gil, my family's inside!"

"So...later, right?" Gilbert waggled his eyebrows. Matt couldn't help but give a fond groan.

"...Yes." he agreed reluctantly. "Later."

Gilbert pumped his fists in the air. "All right!" he crowed, then opened up his arms with a simpering look. "Give me a goodnight kiss, at least?"

Matt responded by stepping back into his arms and pressing his lips to Gilbert's.

It became apparent, however, that Gilbert was looking for more than a "sweet dreams" peck. The older boy's lips parted and his tongue darted out to probe questioningly at Matt's teeth. The blond started, then opened his mouth to his boyfriend, returning the sentiment with his own tongue with a little more hesitation.

Gilbert gave a dark, hungry groan and he clutched at Matt, fingers digging into his side. Matt twisted in the red-eyed boy's grip, fingers clenched in his jacket, other hand tangled in the older boy's hair. Gilbert shifted closer with an exhalation, tasting like sweat and something sweet, like the mousse and whipped cream they'd just had. Their teeth clicked.

"Gross."

Matt squeaked and tore himself from the kiss. Alfred was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, looking all the world like an overprotective big brother. Matt was half-expecting to see a shotgun.

"Al." Matt said in exasperation. "Do you have to _stand _there?"

"Yup." Alfred answered, not taking his eyes off Gilbert for a second. Then he raised his index and middle finger, pointed them at his eyes, then pointed his index at Gilbert.

"I'm watching you, dude." he told him sternly. "Make any wrong moves and I'll show you how I can drop kick your _head_."

Gilbert looked unimpressed. "Yeah, yeah, that's really great." he dead-panned. "Now leave us alone, yeah?"

Alfred's frown settled deeper on his face. Sensing the tension, Matt turned to place a quick kiss against Gilbert's lips.

"Uh...is it okay if I phone you? Maybe tomorrow we could go see a movie?" he asked quietly, a little awkward now that his brother was watching them, intently.

Gilbert nodded. "Sounds good. Yeah, phone me whenever." In Gilbert speak that meant _any time after noon_- Matt knew the older boy didn't really like getting up early. Seeing Alfred watching, Gilbert took a giant step back, curtsied, and shook Matt's hand in mocking, exaggerated movements.

"Catch you later, Mattie. See ya, Al." he saluted as he sauntered over to his bike. The brothers watched him fit his helmet over his head, swing a leg over his motorcycle, and start it up. Neither of them spoke until Gilbert was off down the highway.

Then Alfred turned to Matt with that _look _in his eyes and Matt cracked up.

"Oh my God you look so much like Dad right now!" he giggled. Alfred's frown got even more disapproving and..._English_.

"Speaking of," Arthur joined them in the doorway. "If you're _quite _done outside, perhaps now is a good time to have a talk?"

His voice was pleasant enough but Matt could just tell when Arthur wanted to give someone _the talk_.

And that someone, it seemed, would be him.

"I love you very much Daddy?" he tried hesitantly. Arthur pointed into the pub.

"Nice try, dear." he said mildly. "Inside."

Alfred shot him a smug look. Matt muttered something in French that luckily his father did not catch.

* * *

><p>Francis straightened up, letting the dishcloth fall back on the counter. The dishes from dinner were done - outside he could hear the murmur of the pub's patrons settling down for a Friday night drink. Matt and Alfred were upstairs, playing video games, and his prickly little Englishman was behind the bar, serving up drinks. Francis supposed he should go out and help sit people and take their orders.<p>

Arthur shot him a sour look as he came traversing out of the back.

"_There _you are!" he muttered as the Frenchman passed. "We're packed today - there isn't time to fool around."

"Oh, _mon chou_, I never fool around~!" Francis called, tying his hair back and greeting people with a sunny smile. When Arthur went into the back to get more...well, _whatever _he was getting, it was a good opportunity for Francis to slip into the back a few seconds later.

Arthur looked surprised to see him until Francis backed him into a shelf - then those giant brows furrowed and he said dryly, "I'm a little busy, Francis."

"I know." Francis purred, hands on the shelf behind Arthur. "I just wanted to compliment you on your _astounding _parenting skills."

Arthur stared. "Wh - really?" he asked in disbelief. Francis nodded.

"Really. Your barbed outward appearance belies the fact that _you_, _mon rosbif_, are a softie."

"Am not." Arthur shot back with a scowl that was not all anger. Francis laughed.

"Are too." he hummed. "And I know it. And your children know it. So there's no point in hiding it anymore you uptight old Brit."

Arthur made a face at him. "It pleases me so, when I spend an evening listening to the sound of my husband berating me in cold storage." he quipped sarcastically. "Now, if there's anything else?"

Francis kissed him (sneaking in a grope, but the Englishman was surprisingly lenient). "_Je t'aime_, Arthur." he said when they parted.

Arthur's face was red. "...I love you too, you sod, now come _on_, this pub does not make money by itself."

Francis watched his short Englishman storm from cold storage in a huff, tawny hair mussed, the back of his neck flushed a flustered red.

He was starting to like this place.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Thanks to everyone for reading! I love this pub AU, one of my favourites. More to come, of the AmeRus variety ;)


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